


Never Knew Lovin’ Could Hurt This Good

by prkjhyng, sungjiins



Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: AU, M/M, bri is a zeus kid, briwoon, cocky Brian, dowoon is a good boy, its got humour, jae is an apollo kid, percy jackson - Freeform, so he knows the love goss, so he’s annoying, they’re rivals and it’s cute, who guessed, wonpil is an aphrodite kid
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2019-07-08 18:41:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15936095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prkjhyng/pseuds/prkjhyng, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sungjiins/pseuds/sungjiins
Summary: Sixteen-year-old Yoon Dowoon has spent his life in awe of Kang Younghyun. He shouldn’t judge a book by it’s cover.orYounghyun is a huge asshole and Dowoon isn’t going to take it anymore.





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> helloo!! this is a joined fic with my best friend, manya!! make sure you check out her amazing jaebri oneshot and leave her some kudos because she’s incredible. this is definitely a different style of writing on my behalf but i really like the way we’ve done this and as always—manya wrote amazingly. we’ve been working on this for a while and we’re super excited to post the first chapter!! enjoy and leave kudos & comments :)

Kang Younghyun, the one and only. The only child of the Big Three remaining at camp; the spectacle. He thought he was the best thing since sliced bread, and some agreed.

‘Some’ being unclaimed sixteen year old Yoon Dowoon (although he would never admit it to Younghyun’s face, everybody knew he thought something special of the older boy.)

Dowoon wasn’t sure why he was so mesmerised by Younghyun. Maybe it was his aunt hair, or possibly the way his eyes twinkled with mischief before every game of Capture the Flag (or the way he cheered and fist bumped the air when his team won). There was just something about Kang Younghyun, and Dowoon couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

Dowoon wakes up with a start as he hears his alarm ringing from under his pillow, turning it off and rubbing his eyes as he lets out a small yawn. He’s never been a morning person, but he knows if he wants a shower in a cabin with so many kids, it’s necessary.

He can’t help but wonder what it must be like to be alone. He’s been in the Hermes’ cabin for so long now (six years to be exact) that he can’t imagine what it would feel like to actually have some space; to not have to share your bed with another camper.

No fighting over showers, no boys doing unspeakable things at night and keeping others awake, just — him.

Gods, how he wishes he were claimed.

Dowoon knew how different if would be if he had been, but it was six years later now, and he’d all about given up. And besides, it wasn’t that bad. He had friends from the Hermes’ cabin. After six years as a bunker there, Luke (the Head Counsellor, whom Dowoon was quite fond of) had told him that he was officially a Hermes’ kid (‘Not that it’s much to be proud of.”) and that he could be part of their Capture the Flag team for good.

Although he wasn’t much help, the quiet boy made a good lookout.

Younghyun, on the other hand, was the star of his team. He never bothered with Dowoon (Younghyun knew he’d never try to stop him from grabbing the flag anyway, Dowoon loves his victory cheer too much to be the one to ruin it), his powers were far more advanced than any other demigod at camp.

The Red Team was lucky.

But here they are; it’s finally Friday and Dowoon is looking forward to his weekly dose of admiring Younghyun from afar.

He puts on his armour with his blue feather, giving Luke a grin and a quick high five as Luke pats the younger on the back and wishes him luck. 

“Please, Dowoon. Don’t stare this time. Don’t let him get the flag. It’s embarrassing; we haven’t won in weeks,” his friend Jaehyung complains, scuffing his feet into the dirt. 

Jaehyung is a child of Apollo (you can tell from first glance). He’s incredibly full of himself, but Dowoon can’t blame him, he’s possibly one of the most attractive guys he’s ever laid eyes on; after Younghyun of course. His music and guitar skills outshine any of his siblings’ and consequently he performs every Friday at the campfire, sending the girls into fits of “oohs” and “ahhs”.

“Alright, Jae. I won’t let him past this time,” he lies.

Jaehyung just grins.

As Luke yells “Go!”, Dowoon sees the campers around him charge in the direction of the red flag, leaning up against the tree behind him, not taking his eyes off of their own flag.

He stares until he hears a rustle coming from behind him, and before he can turn to stop it, he’s pinned to the tree by a sword at his throat and a rough hand on his shoulder. 

“Get the flag, Piri.”

Dowoon’s eyes widen a little. That voice — he’d recognise it a mile away. 

Wonpil strides towards the flag, lingering around it for a moment. 

And then it happens. Younghyun speaks to Dowoon, talks to him for the first time.

“You’d think they’d put someone else here once you’ve failed it seven weeks in a row; someone who can actually fight.”

Dowoon drops his eyes from Younghyun’s, gaze trailing his body before it hits the floor, accompanying his heart as it falls down to the gravelly soil beneath him, preventing him from uttering another syllable. He doesn’t know if it’s due to rage or not.

He unwillingly decides that it’s in confusion and the hurt that pierces your skin after you realise that you’ve been betrayed. The boy doesn’t know what leads him to feel this way...it’s just that his now-tarnished image of Younghyun had been so different. Dowoon had always looked upon Younghyun as a resolute fighter, an admirable guy. Someone that lived up to his title as the ‘Sky God’s son’.

Not a huge asshole.

Mulling over his biting words (“...someone who can actually fight.” Dowoon despises that comment), the demigod knows that he should retaliate. He knows that after bearing this much damage to his ego, he can’t possibly let Zeus’ son (or alternatively: the newly-discovered shitbag) get his hands on their flag.

It happens all too quickly. Younghyun advances towards the poor flag-guard and Dowoon starts praying to each and every god that exists up there, no matter if they claim him or not. _Holy shit, he’s going to stab me with his dagger, he’s going to put me in a paper shredder, fuck fuck fuck_.

He feels the thump of a finger prod against his celestial bronze-plated chest. The impact makes the sharp edges of his armour dig into the sides of his ribcage; it hurts so much more than it should. Fearful, he glances upwards, only to be met with the fox-like glare of Younghyun’s eyes.

“You agree, don’t you? Deep inside, you know that you’re good for nothing...I guess, apart from being unclaimed.”

And before Dowoon even has the time to process his words, it’s over. The conch horn blows loudly, catching the attention of every player but him. Because, for Dowoon, the wave of fury that rages and thrashes in his ears is much, much louder than any horn.

Younghyun turns his head towards his friend, Wonpil, who’d managed to grab their azure flag, not before shooting Dowoon a triumphant smirk. _Oh_ , Dowoon realises. _He talked to me as a distraction_.

The entirety of the Red Team suddenly appears into the obscure, little cove in which Dowoon had previously been hiding the flag, and they clap Younghyun and Wonpil’s backs, chanting a ridiculous slogan into the air which they seem to have made up on the spot. The sight in itself pains Dowoon more than he’d thought it would. It’s unlike all their other losses. He’d never felt this furious (at himself more than at the opposing team), this humiliated.

He feels Jaehyung sling his arm around Dowoon sympathetically, “It’s okay, Woonie.”  
Dowoon doesn’t even know where his friend has come from. He guesses, by the painful throbs of his over-working brain, that he is totally and completely out of it.

“Thanks, Jae. I-I just think I need some time alone.”

And with an uncalled for hyena-like grunt, the unclaimed (and currently feeling terribly bad about that fact) demigod rampages his way across the clearing, earnestly hoping to come across a lake which he can use to preferably drown himself in.

\---

It doesn’t exactly go as planned. For one thing, there’s no way that it takes that long to drown. Sure, Dowoon’s never really attempted suicide-by-water before, but he figures that it should only take around three minutes for your organs to give up.

He’s been submerged under the teal pool, slightly treading water, for at least seven minutes now. And counting. Bewildered, he starts recounting the things he ate for lunch...now that he thinks about it, the bread did smell kind of funky.

Dowoon’s close to blaming his supernatural survival powers on the bread when the haze of confusion unclouds before his eyes.

Somewhere along the line, he’d taken in a breath. A short, succinct one at that but nevertheless, it had been a breath. An intake of air (or whatever fish down there breathe) which shouldn’t have been physically possible. Yet, Dowoon is alive and actually breathing in the lake water like it’s his everyday oxygen.

His eyes spring open as he hears the screams resound from above the water surface, unknowingly highlighting the difference between the ever-pleasant water world and harsh reality.

“What are you doing?” 

Dowoon pushes himself up, breaking the surface with a small splash as he swims towards Luke.

“I—Luke, can all demigods breathe under water?” Dowoon questions, eyes wide, “Because I’m pretty sure I just—I definitely just took a breath under there.”

Luke opens his mouth to speak, but no sound comes out.

“It’s not normal, is it? Gods, I’m so screwed up. I wish I could just be—“

“Poseidon, Woon,” Luke states.

“I don’t understand.”

The younger’s brows furrow in confusion as he pulls himself out of the lake, the cold air colliding with his soaked skin and causing him to shiver.

“You’re a Poseidon kid.”

It’s only once Dowoon looks up at Luke that he sees the growing grin on the older’s face. He ruffles Dowoon’s hair, “We’re gonna have you trained up in no time. You’re gonna kick Kang’s ass so hard, Dowoon. You’re a Big Three kid.”

Dowoon sighs, “No, Luke, I’m not. I’m useless. And if Poseidon had wanted to claim me, he would’ve done it by no—“

Luke just smirks, pointing above Dowoon’s head. He glances up nervously to see a trident floating and spinning around his head.

“O-oh.” 

Well shit.

Luke begins to stroll away, muttering to himself about ‘new victors at camp’ and ‘Zeus kid’s gonna get his ass beat by Dowoon’, but the boy in question isn’t really focused on the appreciation that he’s receiving. Instead, his mind’s whirring at five miles per second, the newly-discovered fact of him being Poseidon’s son opening up so many opportunities for him.

“But isn’t he meant to claim me at, like, dinner? In front of everyone?” Dowoon complains, his footsteps catching up to his ex-cabin’s leader with hurried pace. Of course he has to question everything. “Isn’t this a bit unconventional? Are you sure that I’m a child of Poseidon?”

“You don’t question the Gods, Woonie!” Luke retorts, a lilt to his to step that Dowoon just can’t understand. Why is Luke happy for him? Shouldn’t he be weeping, seeing as children of the Big Three get hunted much more exclusively than any other? Unless, of course, they’re Kang fucking Younghyun.

“I just don’t feel so good about th--”

“Look, Dowoon.” Luke pauses and turns sideways slightly so that he’s able to face the younger. “I know it’s gonna be hard. Being a child of the Big Three is more of a curse than an honour and we all know that.  
m  
“But...just imagine the look on Kang’s face when you capture his flag.” He finishes it off with a knowing smirk in Dowoon’s direction and the boy suddenly realises that Luke knows how badly Younghyun insulted Dowoon and he knows that revenge is his first priority.

And truth be told, Dowoon’s never been more grateful for his friend. He shows it physically too, face contorting to display a similar smirk. “Let’s get down to it then.”

Luke pats him on the back, “That’s the spirit, Woon.”


	2. two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " Having reached the tree and simultaneously having a height advantage --even if it is only of two centimetres or so-- Zeus’ gorgeous fucking kid entraps Dowoon with his right hand sloping against the bark, and his left hand cupped against Dowoon’s ear. 
> 
> And he’s leaning in, oh fuck he’s going to whisper something into his ear-- "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! it's manya :)) sorry for not updating in almost a month-- our school n personal lives have really had steph and i busy this past month. i hope you enjoy this chapter! steph wrote phenomenally (most of the briwoon interactions were written by her and ugh i FELT them)

With Luke’s help, Dowoon spends the week training. He’s barely settled into the cabin—gotten used to the feeling of being alone, but already he can feel the exhilaration of his new life at Camp. Waking up to the sound of the ocean (a very pleasant touch; Dowoon admires the effort gone into constructing this cabin), the invigorating scent of salt with a tad bit of happiness mixed into it. It’s heaven on earth for a demigod like him, who’s remained unclaimed for the majority of his stay at Camp.

And for the first few days, Dowoon is convinced that he’s living his dream life, but by the time the fourth day of what he now calls his ‘isolation’ rolls by, he’s incredibly bored. Lounging on a particularly comfortable couch in the cabin, drenched in sweat and dotted with bruises after a long day of toil, he wishes that there was someone in the room to cheer him up. He realises how much he misses the damn Hermes cabin and its endless noise. How much he misses Luke.

But the feeling of what’s slowly evolving into loneliness doesn’t hinder him from working towards his goal, even if that goal is the definition of petty and unnecessary. He doesn’t care, frankly speaking; Dowoon _has_ to prove his worth to Kang Younghyun before he dies.

And it’s the fire in his lungs, the fury in his blood, that fuels him to keep going. Every time he’s about to drop down to the hot earth due to overexertion, he remembers the snarl on Kang’s face, he pinpoints the exact words that the guy had the nerve to utter. And it’s enough, for him at least.

Sometimes he recalls just how _whipped_ he was for Zeus’ son and he involuntarily shudders at the thought. Gods, he was stupid. How could he have been so oblivious? 

That’s not to say that Younghyun isn’t stunning, that Dowoon isn’t so thankful to Zeus that he’d created this fucking _beauty_. Because even if the eye candy turns out to be sour it’s still technically candy right? He’s not afraid to admit that, yes, Younghyun _is_ a gorgeous boy even _after_ the damage he’d caused.

But one thing he’s promised to himself (and Luke and Jaehyung too, partly) is to never get distracted by him again. That had been his Achilles’ heel for the past few years but he wasn’t going to fall for it this time. Dowoon would loathe himself if he sacrificed his team’s triumph for a fucking son of Zeus (a beautiful one at that. Gods, Dowoon really needs to get back on his ‘Hating Kang Younghyun’s Guts’ grind.)

\---

Okay. Maybe he needs to slow down a bit on his ‘Hating Kang Younghyun’s Guts’ grind. _Just a little bit,_ he thinks as he lays himself against the scorched, summer soil, panting at such a rapid rate that he probably sets an international record. Dowoon doesn’t know and he certainly doesn’t care, his parched mouth craving some water. Ambrosia would be helpful too, seeing as he isn’t actually capable of being mobile as of now.

He tries to arch his back in order to make out just how destroyed it is; it turns out to be at quite a high level of ‘ouchiness’ and any onlooker could easily tell, by the way Dowoon hisses in agony. He’s not an Apollo kid, nor is he prolific at medicine, but he knows that he’s strained a couple of muscles.

“This fucking _sucks_ ,” Dowoon whines, the back of his head buried in the inch deep soil, feeling hot and heavy. He doesn’t try to control his volume; there’s not a single soul in sight, which is definitely a bad thing. It’s almost dinnertime, the sun tells him, and the Pavilion is on the other side of Camp. There’s no way anybody’s going to see nor hear him. He’s about to start preparing for his body to rot away, when he catches a reply to his explicit complaint.

“Aw, has Dowoonie had a little accident?”

Dowoon groans, rolling his eyes as his hands fly up to his face to hide the blush that is slowly creeping its way across his face.

Younghyun bends down next to him, a feigned pout on his lips. 

It’s kind of hard to be on a ‘Hating Kang Younghyun’s Guts’ grind when he’s squatting next to you in all of his tanned glory, slightly sweaty hair tangled on his forehad.

It almost feels like Dowoon is sinking further into the dirt beneath him—and he wishes he was. His throat is closed up, mouth frozen shut as he thinks of something, _anything_ , to bite back to Younghyun’s comment.

But there’s nothing.

“Cat got your tongue, Dowoon?”

Dowoon can only stare daggers at the older boy, gently trying to push himself up to lean against the nearest tree behind him. What he isn’t expecting is the hand that comes from Younghyun that holds his back up and helps him slide himself across the soil.

“Son of Poseidon can’t even run a couple of metres without breaking something. What did you do to your back?”

“I don’t know,” Dowoon finally shoots back, and it’s full of spite, “I’m not an Apollo kid. It just _hurts._ ”

He finally relaxes against the tree, letting out a sigh as Younghyun’s hand slides out from under his back.

“Thank you,” Dowoon breathes out.

 _Hating_ Kang Younghyun, Dowoon. _Hating._

“It’s fine. Can’t have the only other Big Three kid dying, can we? I’ve gotta beat you in Capture the Flag one more time—Zeus versus Poseidon.”

Ah. There’s the hatred.

“Can you just go and get an Apollo kid? Get Jae. The tall one. Blue hair.”

“I know who Jaehyung is,” Younghyun says pointedly. 

Dowoon flushes.

“I’ll be right back.”

Younghyun runs a hand through his hair and jogs off, Dowoon feeling the beating of his heart finally slowing and his breathing returning to its regular pace.

He’s completely still; he’s scared if he moves that he’ll break his back into more broken pieces. That’s the last thing he needs with all of the training he’s getting off of Luke.

After a couple of agonising minutes (they’re so long that Dowoon bets Kronos is back on his bullshit again), Younghyun returns with Jae in tow. Dowoon knows _exactly_ the look that Jae’s about to give him, so instead of bracing himself for it, he completely avoids it by eyeing the soil laden floor like it’s something interesting.

“As you can see here, Jaehyung, our Dowoon had a little bit of an...accident. He was lying on the floor when I saw him, crying his lungs out,” Kang starts, smirking at his injured rival throughout the whole thing. Dowoon catches on to the last line and consequently tries to think of ways in which he can kick Kang in the balls by the sheer use of telepathy.

But his mind frustratingly latches onto another bit of information...since when had he become ‘ _our_ Dowoon’?  
He hates that he likes the sound of that.

Jae just observes his belittled friend with a miffed stare, an all too knowing look present on his face. His narrowed eyes literally exude the phrase _‘what the fuck is going on, I never expected this kind of development and I’m telling Sungjin and Luke everything, you little shit’._

Thankfully, though, his reply is a bit more composed. “Yeah. Figured.”

The three find themselves to be in some kind of silence and they just stand (or in Dowoon’s case, ( _lean_ ) there, the dying sun shedding cascades of heavenly light upon their backs. Younghyun practically looks like a God and just as Dowoon’s about to resort to old habits and start admiring the shit out of him, Jae’s clear and chirpy voice cuts through.

“So, I guess we’ll get going now? Come on my man, I’ll give you a piggyback ride.”

Dowoon mutely nods, beckoning Jae over to him with the hand that’s not wrapped around the callous trunk of the sycamore tree. “Don’t drop me,” he pleads.

The Apollo kid hums in reply and starts approaching Dowoon, before he’s stopped by a hand to his tank-top covered chest.

“Lemme just have a word with him.”

And now instead of Jae, sunshine-loving and harmless Jae, it’s Younghyun that’s slowly striding towards Dowoon’s figure, mouth set in that way it always is when he’s determined to accomplish something. The Poseidon boy really has looked at him too much.

Having reached the tree and simultaneously having a height advantage --even if it is only of two centimetres or so-- Zeus’ gorgeous fucking kid entraps Dowoon with his right hand sloping against the bark, and his left hand cupped against Dowoon’s ear. 

And he’s leaning in, oh fuck he’s going to whisper something into his ear--

His amplified voice causes the hairs on the base of Dowoon’s browned neck to stand up in panic and the acid in stomach to dissolve all his internal organs

Until he gets wind of what Younghyun’s actually trying to say.

“Just a reminder that Capture the Flag begins in an hour and your team’s definitely going to be losing...for the fourteenth time in a row. And your injured ass won’t be able to do a single thing.”

Fucking prick.

He wants to voice the aforementioned two choice words but once again, his larynx fails him and he’s left speechless. He feels hopeless and mad, more so at himself than at Kang. Because if it weren’t for him being incapacitated, Dowoon’s _sure_ that they could have won that game.

_And I honestly thought he was being nice when he helped me up?_

Younghyun smirks, pulling himself to his feet and leaving the two alone.

Dowoon instantly groans once he’s out of earshot, burying his face in his hands.

“We were gonna win, Jae. I was gonna kick his fucking ass,” he complains, digging his fingers in the dirt.

Jae’s a little taken aback by the younger’s explicit language, but he bends down and helps him into a piggy back.

“Your time’ll come, Woon. You’ll kick that ass into oblivion.”

Dowoon just sighs, daggers laced with guilt stabbing at his chest. If only he hadn’t overworked himself, the Blue Team could have had a chance of winning. And like the previous few games, this one will also be lost due to _his_ misdoing. It’s always him, Yoon Dowoon, that leads to his team’s inevitable failure, and Kang sure knows how to rub that in.

He buries his red face into the small of Jae’s back, tired, lead-like arms wrapped around his upper torso like a koala bear.

Luke’s not going to be too elated when he sees Dowoon’s condition, no doubt about it. He’ll possibly make ‘that’ face, which consists of several frown lines and a small pout. The latter could be considered cute but in such situations, where Dowoon _knows_ that it’s the embodiment of Luke’s disappointment, he finds it more terrifying than anything else.

Jae seems to pick up on his friend’s negative brain waves and tightens his grip on him in what Dowoon supposes is a friendly, comforting way.

“Don’t dwell on it, okay? Just focus on resting up to full energy so that you can prove yourself in next week’s game.”

The sunshine boy’s tone’s gone down by a few octaves and his voice is gentle, like the way he plucks the strings of his much-cherished acoustic guitar. It’s at times like this that Dowoon truly appreciates the concern that Jaehyung is always subtly showing him.

“Thanks, Jae. I,” he inhales deeply before continuing, knowing that he’s about to play himself in the next sentence. He goes for it anyway. “I’m--no, _we’re_ going to be the winners next week. You’ll see. Just trust Poseidon’s kid.” He finishes it off by slipping on that cocky grin that all Big Three kids are expected to wear. 

Dowoon can’t see Jae’s face, but he sure can hear the smile in his voice. “I believe in you, kid.”

\---

Sulking in the dark corners of his azure-hued cabin, Dowoon waits. Just like he always does. It occurs to him now, that for most of his life he’s been anticipating something and when that thing _does_ take place, it never seems to go the way he’s planned. Take the cabin for example. After having tolerated the pigsty that the Hermes was for six insufferable years, Dowoon _knew_ that he was ready for a solo life in his own cabin. 

But now that he’s actually sat here, the room feels much too big for just him, and the sound of the ocean just highlights how _quiet_ it is, something he hasn’t experienced in years.

He just stares at the blank wall in front of him, wondering how on earth Younghyun manages to do this every day of his life.

Oh, wait. Younghyun can do fucking everything, apparently.

Dowoon can practically picture Kang now. He wouldn’t be looking as pathetic as Dowoon is now, sitting on the edge of the bed with ice pressed to his back just _staring_. No, Younghyun would somehow be draped against the wall, his skin glowing from the natural light filling through the half-open window beside him.

When in reality, Younghyun is doing nothing of the sort.

He’s sleeping, soft, gentle snores escaping his slightly ajar mouth. The ferocious demigod that had simply twenty minutes prior been receiving several Ares-worthy claps on the back, for once again (for the _fourteenth_ time to be specific) winning Capture the Flag for his incredibly fortunate team, is now haphazardly strewn across a mattress.

Much unlike Dowoon, Younghyun somewhat likes his cabin. In there, nobody can see him. Nobody can see that the ‘callous son of the Lightning God’ is not as unfeeling and fierce as he seems to be. As soon as he steps into his not-so-homely cabin, he’s no longer ‘Kang Younghyun’ but ‘Young K’, a stupid, stupid nickname that his mother had once called him (and one which had astonishingly stuck).

Outside his cabin, however, the ambience is the right opposite of calm. The Red Team is celebrating, like they’ve been doing for around three months now, downing plastic cups of Kool-Aid like it’s their daily oxygen and chanting something along the lines of “suck our toes Blues!”

A certain son of Hermes manages to snake unscathed through the triumphant crowd and trudge, with slow, pronounced steps, to the second-biggest cabin in Camp. It’s sort of hard to miss and for Luke, the boy that’s currently sitting inside it is even harder to not see.

Although he usually has a notorious soft spot for the said son of Poseidon, the roar for vengeance within his furious heart prevents him from using that old, gentle tone, and Luke somewhat storms into Dowoon’s cabin.

Dowoon’s head isn’t where Luke had expected it to be. It’s not faced towards the window through which a soothing breeze is wafting indoors, nor is it stationed towards the floor, pretending to not see the world above. No, Dowoon is looking _right_ at the door with an expression of remorse already shrouding his usually placid features.

“Do--” Luke starts, trying not to apply that roughness into his voice like he normally does when in anger, knowing that it could frighten the younger boy.

“I’m sorry,” Dowoon intervenes, speaking in a small, mouse-like voice. “I know. I failed you and the whole team. I’m really, really sorry, Luke. Really.”

Something about his porcelain voice (smooth and pristine but sounding as if it’s about to break at any given point) makes Luke’s emotions do a one-eighty so quickly, it gives him whiplash. He can’t possibly be mad at a kid, a kid who has just got to know about their godly parent, a kid who’s on his own. A kid who is sincerely apologetic about something so insignificant. A kid who _hurt_ himself just because he was _training_ for the said ‘thing’.

Eventually, Luke sighs. He sighs, looks dazedly at the oak floorboards, and then nods.

“I know you are. And I know that next time,” he continues, now peering at Dowoon with that ever-so-familiar smirk, “you _will_ be our victor.”

He feels refreshed all of a sudden and so, very thankful that he hadn’t unleashed all his fury at the demigod.

But Dowoon? Dowoon, feels...well, _fucked_. First of all, the newly placed weight on his back which carries the potential victory of the Blue Team in the following week, is making him feel more like the Titan Lord, Atlas, by the second. Their chances of winning rely on him: will he drop the weight or heave it up for the whole coming week?

Secondly, Dowoon’s realised that after the events of today, being around Kang Younghyun has gotten increasingly difficult.

He sort of hates his life.


	3. three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' Dowoon’s walk back to the cabins is unnervingly chirpy. There’s a spring in his step that he feels like he’s been missing for the past sixteen years and when he lifts his head to take a quick glance around the perimeter, everything appears a tad bit more vibrant. His eyes eagerly pick out the details in everything he sees, whether it’s a gnarled tree trunk or a curved blade of grass. '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow. so, manya and i have been incredibly busy throughout the past couple of months and we've finally decided to step up and continue writing this!! we had the most incredible and inspirational comment that really made us want to try our best to start writing this again!! 
> 
> manya wrote most of this chapter and her writing is phenomenal as always and i really hope you all enjoy it and you're all excited for the chapters to come<33

‘Passion’, admittedly, was not one of Dowoon’s most frequently-used words. In his sixteen years of life, he supposed that he’d used it four times at most; it just didn’t resonate with him. Back when he’d been attending ordinary schools, unaware of his demigod status, he’d always shunned it because of its complex spelling (ten years old and dyslexic, any word with a double letter in it had bewildered him, and since then he’d chosen not to associate himself with such troublesome things). At Camp Half-Blood, he’d been avoiding it because of its alien meaning. Being passionate meant being excited, energised, inspired…emotions that he’d never been a victim to.

Currently, however, Dowoon realises that he’s not only been possessed by passion; he’s been devoured by it, like the feeling’s a fiery tornado, evaporating all of the water inside him. He feels as if he’s been hit by a truckload of it. The way it refreshes him is sort of addictive. A few weeks ago, he’d been a demure and lackluster side character, his mind empty of desire. Now...now Dowoon is the protagonist. His craving for victory against the enemy that he’s bad at considering an enemy, is fuelling him. He won’t _allow_ himself to lose another time, he won’t accept failure.

And it’s tiring, everything is so tiring, but his body doesn’t register it anymore. His yearning drives away any noticeable aching, replacing it with adrenaline. Five laps around the arena? He’ll commit himself to doing five more. Struggling on the climbing wall? He’ll practise his technique until he’s mastered it. As the week progresses, Dowoon can feel a certain royal aura building up around him, encircling him like a forcefield. He feels unstoppable, _golden_. _This must be what Younghyun feels like..._

The passionate demigod is slumped against a tree, similar to the one he was leaning on last week after being so graciously ‘aided’ by Younghyun. Water drips down his chin, completely indiscernible from the sheen of sweat that coats the rest of his face. The last morsels of pale sunlight glide over his face and he shuts his eyes, the overexertion finally getting to him. Thankfully he hasn’t strained any muscles this time round...that would be pretty hard to explain to Luke. 

As he gets his breathing back to its normal pace, Dowoon analyses his week’s hard work. One week can’t possibly give someone enough time to develop an ideal and adequately buff body but at least he’s improved his stamina and fighting technique. All that he’s counting on now is the support of his team and the hope that Lady Luck may decide to switch sides and support the Blue Team in the next game. He knows he’s ready to take Kang on but he’s scared that during the game, the age-old intimidation he’s been haunted by will resurface and cause Dowoon to lose his gall, and fail.

A whistle interrupts his stream of positive thoughts and makes him turn his head towards the woods in search of the person who’s gate-crashed his one-man party. A doe-eyed brunet stands in the shadow of a thicket, gazing at Dowoon with a look that he would’ve mistaken for hostile, if he didn’t know the boy. But it’s common news that Kim Wonpil, son of Aphrodite, has never given anyone a hostile look in his life.

“Been practising hard, I see!” He saunters away from the brink of the North woods and to Dowoon’s dismay, flings himself onto the ground, next to him. “Look at you...not even panting! To be honest,” Wonpil lowers his voice, as if he’s sharing some surreptitious information with a confidant, “I didn’t recognise you when I whistled. I just thought you were some hot new guy.”

When Dowoon shows no visible reaction to Wonpil’s outburst, the latter carries on talking in that same conspiratorial voice. “I would greatly appreciate it if we got a hot new guy. I’ve been needing some new eye candy for a while now, see.” At this, he wipes away an imaginary bead of sweat from his forehead. Dowoon has frankly never met a more dramatic person in his life and he doesn’t think he really wants to.

He and Wonpil are hardly friends, but Dowoon wouldn’t put him in the acquaintance category either. To him, Kim Wonpil is just a constant; he’s always lurking near him, near everyone in camp. He’s a force that cannot be evaded: he knows things about campers that the campers don’t know about themselves. He’s everywhere and nowhere and he is _oh-so annoying_.

“Why are you here?” Dowoon interjects before Wonpil can immerse himself in the conversation topic that is attractive demigod men. At the back of his mind, he’s aware that Wonpil’s the furthest thing from an enemy, but he’s part of the Red Team and Dowoon’s frenzied mind can’t overlook that this week, with the game approaching.

Wonpil looks momentarily startled, not expecting the usually quiet demigod to be so straightforward (Dowoon can’t blame him; he’s been surprising himself more and more lately as well), and then regains his nonchalant composure. “I was sent by one of the Ares children to see how much of a threat you’d be for the game this week.” His tone’s changed from playful to icy at lightning speed, but Dowoon gets the feeling that for once, the iciness isn’t directed at him.

“And? What’s your verdict?”

Wonpil gives him a small smile. “Between you and me, I’d say, yes, you do pose a pretty huge threat to our team with your newly-developed strength. But,” and his expression darkens, which isn’t a normal phenomenon when it comes to Aphrodite’s son, “I’m going to tell the Red Team otherwise. They’re taking this game _way_ too seriously. Isn’t it called a ‘game’ for a reason, aren’t we all meant to have fun?”

Dowoon’s about to point out that he’s probably taking this more seriously than anyone on the Red Team and that there’s no reason for Wonpil to be defending him like he is, but however hard he searches, he cannot find an alleyway to enter into the conversation. Wonpil is ranting at unmatched speeds.

“Can you believe how high the tension is between the two teams right now? I’ve been trying to talk to Sungjin for an entire _week_ , but the motherfucker’s avoiding me! Me! Why would he ever want to avoid me?” He shakes his head, looking disgruntled with his current predicament and for the first time in history, Dowoon feels an ounce of pity for the demigod. “Anyway. I’ve decided that if I want this to end, I’m just going to have to betray my team.”

Dowoon nods, unsure of what else to do.

Wonpil seems to be getting displeased with the lack of a reaction he’s evoking from his conversation partner. “So? Any thank-yous?”

Getting to his feet, Dowoon gives him a small but sincere smile. “It’s cool that you’re going out of your way to do this, but I’d appreciate it more if you all played your best. The only thing worse than losing, for me, is winning against a team who doesn’t put in their all.” It’s twilight now and indigos, violets, and other darker hues are soaking up the warmth in the air like intangible sponges. The game is tomorrow and he’s already mentally preparing himself for it. He starts to wander off into a territory of thoughts about what Younghyun could be doing right now, before he stops himself. He can’t get distracted by him again.

Wonpil heaves himself off the ground too and with a nod, he returns the smile.

“You’re pretty cool, Dowoon.” He slings an arm around the shoulders of the boy in question, which is more than what Dowoon had bargained for in return. “Don’t let me down tomorrow, pretty boy...kick Kang’s ass for me,” he adds in a whisper, and the traitor detaches himself from Dowoon’s side and bounces across the grass, over to the cabins.

Wonpil’s words play in his mind for hours to come.

_Kick Kang’s ass for me._

He feels like he’s been saying this, hearing this for years but never before has he believed it could be a possibility. He might _actually_ beat Brian Kang.

Dowoon’s walk back to the cabins is unnervingly chirpy. There’s a spring in his step that he feels like he’s been missing for the past sixteen years and when he lifts his head to take a quick glance around the perimeter, everything appears a tad bit more vibrant. His eyes eagerly pick out the details in everything he sees, whether it’s a gnarled tree trunk or a curved blade of grass. Wonpil’s words hadn’t been the most refined or gentle but they’d instilled a new type of confidence within him. People were actually _counting_ on him to win this, people like Wonpil, whom he’d hardly talked to before. They believed that he was capable of going up against Brian Kang, the star of Camp Half-Blood, the son of Zeus. 

“They think I’m a leader,” he murmurs, feeling slightly giddy. 

“Hell yeah, they do.”

Dowoon turns so fast that he struggles to keep himself upright, visibly relaxing when his eyes focus in on Jae. His blue hair is tousled and unkempt, and through his parted lips he’s panting, implying that he’s sprinted all the way here. For Dowoon?

He’s beginning to feel pretty good about himself.

“Did you run all the way-- hey, steady now. What’s going on?” Dowoon’s question goes unanswered as Jae, apparently too exhausted to get his legs to properly function, stumbles on the grass and is caught by his friend a second before he hits the hard earth face-first. Bemused by this bizarre behaviour (as however much Jae avoids the serious training regime at Camp, he’s definitely not unfit), Dowoon allows Jae to use his shoulder as a head-rest and tame his pulse. A minute of silence later, Dowoon starts moving with his friend in tow. Despite the twilight breeze that’s trailing through the air, it’s still quite sultry and he yearns to cool off in the safety of his cabin before dinner.

As they creep closer to the cabins, Dowoon can feel Jae’s steps getting more and more lethargic, as if he purposefully wants to slow down their return. He starts to wonder why Jae’d come running for him in the first place if he'd known that he’d get _this_ exhausted.

When he voices the same question to his accompanying friend, Jae replies with a short and succinct “just cause” and leaves it at that. Dowoon’s more than suspicious now, raised eyebrows disappearing under the messy tangle of bangs. Yeah, Jae can be irritating, but he’s never so implicit. The fact that his silence and his grip on Dowoon’s wrist are both increasing with every step they take worries the aforementioned demigod. What could have happened?

He soon understands Jae’s reluctance when he’s met with a flying spear at a distance of ten feet away from cabin two. It thankfully misses him and soars a great distance over his head, finally finding its target in the centre of a tree and embedding itself into the ageing bark. A disappointed but acrid grunt arises from his left and he turns around in a lame stance, trying to seem intimidating. The source of the spear glowers back at him, her red, straggly hair shielding most of her face from view like a dense curtain. With that kind of vision impairment, it’s no wonder she has such shitty aim.

“Go back to rotting in the Hermes cabin, worthless scum!” she jeers, and with a swish of her hips, struts away in the direction of the Pavilion. Dowoon doesn’t know what to think or how to react; it happened all too fast. He turns to Jae for even a morsel of clarity, which isn’t something most people expect to get from Apollo’s son. 

“What...the fuck?” A good, introductory question.

“Me too, buddy, me too. It looks like the war has unofficially begun, doesn’t it?”

So, Wonpil really hadn’t been exaggerating. The Red Team was taking this stupid, weekly game of Capture the Flag just as seriously as the Blue Team was, if not more. Calling each other names for general banter was one thing, but flinging spears at your enemies in broad daylight (well, twilight) was a whole other. Their vicious attitude partly intimidates Dowoon and partly excites him. A week ago, he knows that he would’ve shied away from such ruthless attacks and kept to himself, but now he feels strangely bold. He _wants_ to take them on, he wants to retaliate, show them what he’s capable of.

When he gets to the Dining Pavilion in time for dinner, he realises that his fiery sentiment is not shared by all of his teammates. Quite a few of them, some of whom he doesn’t even know the names of, nod or wave towards him, a gentle sign of support. Others seem to be apathetic towards his newly-earned status as the team’s ‘hopeful’ and a handful of them even react negatively to his entrance. Their judgmental expressions are a hindrance in Dowoon’s path to achieving complete confidence in his abilities, and make him sweat out of nerves. Jae had been wrong. They _don’t_ look up to him as a leader at all and who can blame them? He’s been a background character for six years, his identity unknown to many of them, and now he’s supposed to win the game that they’ve been losing for fourteen weeks straight?

“Keep your head up, it’s alright,” whispers Jae from behind him, sensing his discomfort. Dowoon takes a breath and earnestly tries to regain his peace of mind, when it’s rudely disrupted by none other than Park Sungjin.

The son of Athena bounds up to the duo before they can reach their respective tables and gives them both a look of pure disgust. As it turns out, Sungjin does not fit into any of the aforementioned categories that Dowoon’s mentally devised for the members of the Blue Team. If he were to draw a venn diagram, Sungjin would fit right in the centre; his feelings towards the situation (or the way he portrays them anyway) are a mixture of indifference, hatred, and sympathy.

“Your patriotic asses are ruining this week for _everybody_ ,” he hisses. “Half the Blue Team is in utter confusion because their lovely, red friends have decided to completely ghost them. Everyone is at each other’s throats. It’s literally,” he carries on, gesticulating where appropriate, “a damn _war_ at this point and all because of what? A game? A game that got way out of hand and is ripping this entire camp to shreds! Fuck you guys!”

Dowoon and Jae stay rooted to their spots, speechless.

“That being said, if you don’t win Capture the Flag tomorrow, I might actually kill you.”

“Not if Kang does it first!”

Wonpil conveniently emerges from thin air and intervenes in the one-sided conversation as if he’s been there all along. Dowoon is admittedly glad for the interruption; Wonpil’s presence seems to calm Sungjin’s rampant spirit. He doesn’t think he can handle another furious outburst from the latter, not when the first one put him at his wits’ end. He _has_ been cruelly dividing Camp Half-Blood, hasn’t he?

“I assure you, dumbass,” Sungjin says, narrowing his eyes at the newcomer, “that our Yoon Dowoon will never lose to that pretentious idiot. Not in a million years.”

“But how can you be so sure, huh?” Wonpil replies, shooting Dowoon the most obvious wink. “Didn’t you see what unfurled in the match before last? Kang basically won by glaring at your Yoon Dowoon. How are you sure that he won’t lose confidence again?”

“‘Woon’s grown,” is Jae’s simple answer. “Have _you_ seen the amount of effort he’s been putting in to improve? He’s been practising day and night without stopping. He even skipped movie night on Tuesday and he _never_ skips movie night. Younghyun may be physically stronger but Dowoon’s mental strength and discipline is ten times that of Kang. I believe in him.”

“As do I,” adds Sungjin, heatedly.

Dowoon doesn’t feel so mentally strong at that moment but his gratitude towards his best friends tremendously surpasses the pressure of his insecurities. His mind's been rocking back and forth for this whole day, confidence fluctuating as frequently as Kang changes his hair colour. He's been agitating himself with drops of self-hatred, drowning himself in guilt, and he’s even been staying afloat on a pool of confidence. Now, his emotional highs and lows seem insignificant in comparison to the lustrous praise he's earned. He realises that he can overcome the Red Team's taunts and even overcome their leader. He can show Camp Half-Blood how much he's learned and show his friends how much he's benefitted from their support. 

At the forefront of his chaos-engulfed mind, Dowoon allows a new thought to enter. It steals the limelight from the nervousness and anxiety and wades its way towards the centre. It tells Dowoon that if he has faith in his friends, his teammates, and most importantly in his determination rather than his abilities, he really has a chance of winning against Younghyun. Winning against the camp's idol, a boy he's admired for more than half a decade.

Perhaps paying attention to the son of Zeus for several years has paid off because now, Dowoon knows his prime traits, and he realises that he _does_ have an advantage over him. He has what Kang doesn't have: passion.

Wonpil nods, pleased with the answers he's received, and starts to walk away from the group after bidding them goodbye (and good luck). Before totally vanishing, though, he stops at Dowoon, cups a hand over his mouth, and whispers something in his ear. 

The whisper's nature is the polar opposite of Kang's: it's comical and uplifting, and even makes Dowoon grin after it's been said.  
_"Please make sure you win this, Dowoon, because I'm pretty sure Sungjin hates me more than he ever has before."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey it's manya :D i hope you all liked the chapter, it was pretty long but i hope it kept you engaged! i apologise for the lack of briwoon action as this chapter was centered around dowoon's self-confidence and his friendship with jae, and i also took the opportunity to introduce our boys sungjin and wonpil! i hope you enjoyed reading about them as much as steph and i enjoyed writing<3
> 
> your support for this fic has been really encouraging :)) it would be great if you could leave feedback so we could improve our subsequent chapters.


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